


Versace On The Floor

by loveandwarandmagick



Series: summertime shenanigans [2]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Head Injury, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, POV Simon Snow, Summer Vacation, Temporary Amnesia, baz is fashion obsessed, but it's versace, he's not dumb, i have no idea how amnesia works lets pretend this is it, i literally did not research this, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwarandmagick/pseuds/loveandwarandmagick
Summary: Baz's new outfit comes in the same day that a heatwave does.Baz wears it out, stubbornly, and Simon ends up complaining to the receptionist about his ridiculous boyfriend.Also, he has temporary amnesia and doesn't even remember that Simon's his boyfriend. Cue the questions and banter.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: summertime shenanigans [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807300
Comments: 2
Kudos: 94





	Versace On The Floor

**Author's Note:**

> part two of the summer shenanigans series ! 
> 
> i hope y'all like this one,, it was very fun to write. the title is a pun by the way. versace,,,, on the floor ,,,, get it ,, like the song
> 
> anyway, ily y'all , stay safe, and thank you for all the support <3

The first day of July started with Baz’s penchant for Versace, and ended with a hospital visit. 

Simon had been sitting on Penny’s bed while she dressed for work, when they heard the front door unlock. Without saying anything, Baz had rushed straight to Simon’s flat and locked himself in the spare bedroom, ignoring Simon’s concerned shouting and Penny’s blustering. 

It’d taken less than a minute before he strode out, decked in this heavy looking black jacket with another black shirt beneath it. Black jeans and black boots, and an all too smug expression at Penny’s silent approval. All Simon could think of was the news report he’d seen that morning, the record high for today being well over thirty degrees. The clothes were already clinging to his skin with the muggy feeling in the room.

And he’d _said_ so, while Penny was in the middle of running her hands along the smooth leather design on the back. 

“Is this real leather?” She’d asked, while Baz preened and confirmed, “One hundred percent calf leather.”

“So you’re wearing a baby cow?” Simon had muttered, glancing at the sun shining through the sheer curtains. Neither of them heard him over their conversation; something about the historical implications of using Medusa as such a big part of the franchise. They’d all moved into the kitchen at some point, migrating in the middle of their conversation. 

Simon spoke again, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. “Supposed to be hot out today.”

No response. Penny said something about the embroidery, throwing around words like _deliberate_ and _artisanal_. The last time Simon had heard that word, it was being used to describe cheese. He shuddered at what the clothes and food might have in common, before clearing his throat and raising his voice. 

“ _Babe_.”

Both Penny and Baz were silent at once, turning to him curiously. 

“Oh, _that_ works,” Simon grumbled. “It’s supposed to be _hot_ today.” Looking pointedly at Baz’s outfit, then at the sun scorching the linoleum in the kitchen. Baz frowned and Penny blinked. 

“So?”

“ _So_ , you’re wearing all black. And you’ve got a meeting, and you’re going to have to walk to the building. In the sun.” 

Penny had looked contemplative, then gestured at the window. “Surely, it can’t be that bad? It’s only fifteen minutes.” 

Simon had lost track of how many times he’d said that before, only for things to end up even worse than bad.

“Fine. Give yourself heatstroke then. For the sake of fashion,” he’d grumbled, standing up to grab his laptop from his room. Baz grabbed his wrist and pulled him close to murmur placatingly at him, ignoring Penny’s muted groaning as she’d left for work. 

As he was heading out the door, he’d stopped to give Simon a kiss, whispering “It’s _Versace_ ,” in his ear, until Simon had shoved him away, pressing a kiss to the center of his hand and smudging it across Baz’s cheek. 

The unease stayed with him through the morning, as he’d paced around the flat, trying to think of other things. The news channel flickered on again, reporting an incoming heat wave that was sure to pose a problem. 

Not even thirty minutes later, he’d gotten a call from an unknown number. And then another, this time from Baz’s number. He let the first one ring through and then immediately answered the second one. 

“Baz?”

  
“Is this the spouse of Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch?” 

He’d felt his face go hot at the word _spouse_ , but it was quickly eclipsed by his worry. “Uh, yes. Partner.”

“Right, dear. Could you come down to Royal Brompton on Sydney, in London? I’m afraid he’s had an accident.”

His blood had run cold at that as he stumbled into a pair of shoes, flying out the door. “What kind?”

“Oh well, he’s hit his head. It’s nothing serious; he’s already woken up, and he’s a bit disoriented. Keeps talking about his clothes, is all. There a chance you can come in?”

Simon hung up and took off running down the streets, ignoring concern and annoyance from jostled passersby. It took all of ten minutes to arrive, and then he’d promptly collapsed against the desk, taking his first deep breath since he’d gotten off the phone. 

Now he’s here, complaining with the receptionist while the nurse clears everything for the visit. 

Judith (the quite gossipy receptionist) says, “Oh dear, well what was he doing all bundled up like that?” Just hearing it makes his annoyance flare up, combusting alongside his worry. He’d _told_ him, the stubborn prick. 

“He likes to think he’s _cool_ ,” Simon huffs, “And he calls _me_ an idiot. I told him about the weather. But no, it’s _Versace_.”

He ignores the way the receptionist’s eyes slide surreptitiously to the _Abuse In Relationships_ pamphlets shoved into a holder on her desk. 

“What did you say his name was?” She asks sweetly, tapping her nails along her computer keyboard. 

“Basilton. Tyrannus is his first name though, if we’re being technical.”

“Yes well, this is his medical record. It is technical.” Another sweet smile, accompanied by thinly veiled curiosity. “I’m sure I saw him come in, you just have to wait a second, dear.”

“You couldn’t have missed him. He’s fully decked out in posh clothes, all black. A bit of gold on the shirt collar, I think.”

Her eyes stay blank, but she nods encouragingly. 

“He’s gorgeous, like. Insanely fit. You couldn’t miss him. Long black hair-” He’s prepared to go on, but someone clears their throat behind him. A young nurse is standing there, looking vaguely amused. Simon blushes at the thought that he was caught rambling, but keeps his expression as fierce as possible. Judith clears her throat politely, and Simon blushes harder. 

“Right. Simon Snow?” He asks, and Simon nods quickly. “Follow me, please.”

The nurse doesn’t say much, so Simon doesn’t either. It’s a short walk down the hall, and after two quick turns they come to a room with the curtain pulled tightly. Here, he pauses, turning to look at Simon with a tight smile. Instantly, his nerves are refreshed, that tight coil of worry inside him pulling taut again. 

“Here’s the thing. After observation, it appears that he’s got a bit of amnesia. He’s got basic knowledge of his life all the way up until high school it seems. It’s most likely temporary.”

Simon wonders vaguely how anyone could describe amnesia as “ _a bit,”_ clinging onto the word _temporary_ instead. 

“Right,” Simon murmurs, suddenly feeling queasy. “Right, well. Can I see him?” 

“That’s the other thing. We’re not quite sure that he remembers you. Don’t take it too hard if he doesn’t.”

Simon hums, feeling that coil of nerves intensify. He wonders how much of high school he remembers; if he has any recollection of their senior year. They’d been friends up until then, and then finally, when they were drunk and stupid from stealing his father’s liquor, Baz had kissed him. 

It took time to end up where they were now. One shovel-talk from Penny, a few more drunken nights of spilling insecurities and alcohol alike, and two years had led to a solid relationship. Not perfect, but they’d both agreed long ago that life was just _better_ with the other. 

The fact that Baz might not remember any of it, even temporarily, makes Simon’s heart sink in his chest. 

“Ready to go in?” Asks the nurse, and he feels the color drain from his face. _No_ , his mind whispers, as he nods robotically. 

Baz is frowning at his phone when he pulls the nurse steps forward and pulls the curtain back. “Whose phone is this?” He asks, turning it in his hands until he notices the photo of him and Simon on the back case. His frown deepens as he looks up and catches sight of Simon in the doorway. 

“Simon?”

“Hey,” he mumbles, voice coming out raspy with emotion. Baz looks around before settling again on Simon. A bolt of energy runs down his spine as he takes in the restrained expression on Baz’s face. He hadn’t noticed it before, only really realizing that he was guarding himself after they got together. 

Seeing his face opened up entirely makes this version of him hard to stomach, a blast from the past that Simon is not welcome to at all. 

“Hey,” he laughs weakly, stubbornly sniffing and ignoring the stinging feeling behind his eyes. “How do you feel?”

“Like my head hurts,” he frowns, then looks down at himself and up at Simon. “Is this Versace?” He whispers, and the nurse laughs sharply before excusing himself. Simon switches his glare in Baz’s direction.

"I am going to burn that. It’s literally so hot outside,” he mutters, moving to sit by Baz’s bedside. “The doctor says you have amnesia. What did you tell him?”

Baz looks pensive, face screwing up to think. “That I have an exam tomorrow in Chaucer’s class. And so do you. Why did they call you?”

Chaucer. Their teacher when they were sixteen. _Fuck_. 

“Yeah, amnesia,” he huffs, and Baz’s eyes go wild. 

“What do you _mean_?”

Simon ponders the idea of telling him everything, wondering just how much he’s supposed to reveal. The nurse hadn’t mentioned anything about _not_ telling him, but then again, it might be too much to tell him when his mind is so fragile., 

“You hit your head, you dolt,” Simon huffs, and Baz’s eyes go wide with alarm and confusion, and then simmer with a frustrated anger.

“So tell me. What am I missing?” 

Simon shakes his head firmly, ignoring Baz’s scowl as he gestures at his phone case. “When did we take this?” 

The photo is from when they first started dating, around three months after they’d made things official. Penny had taken it on a night out, while they were under the strobe of a pink-colored light. It was a private moment, something Simon whispered against his mouth getting caught a second later between them. Baz’s eyes are closed, and Simon’s staring straight at him, smiles curving along both their mouths.

Simon has that picture framed in his room. 

“Night out,” Simon shrugs, feeling himself soften at the memory, the taste of sugar and alcohol on his tongue, the dim strobing lights. 

Baz looks alarmed, once again. “Do I really have amnesia?” He whispers, lips pressing together in that way they do when he’s anxious. Simon moves towards him, at a loss for how to comfort him now that he’s uncertain about how much of their relationship to reveal. 

“You hit your head,” he repeats, “And you have amnesia. It’s temporary, ‘kay?” 

“Not really,” he mutters, staring at the phone case while Simon stands by his side helplessly. Finally, he settles for putting a hand in Baz’s hair, smoothing it back from his head in the way he’s admitted to liking. He looks confused but leans into it nonetheless, eying Simon warily as he continues to run his fingers through. 

Finally, the doctor comes in after a long moment and Simon steps away from the bedside, smiling helplessly at her. 

“Ma’am, am I allowed to tell him anything else? About our life currently?”

She smiles tightly, looking both patient and worried at the same time. Simon can’t tell if he likes her yet. 

“Well,” she says, looking over at Baz, and then shifting her eyes back to Simon. “Nothing too stressful for him to handle. Try to avoid any major traumatic events that have occurred and let him figure out the difficult things. Again, this is minor, so-” 

Here she smiles, and Simon decides that he probably likes her. “He should be just fine, dear. Memory will be back in a night, maybe. Three at most. That’s how temp memory loss usually works.”

Baz looks up at Simon, lips pressed together in a thin line as he contemplates his response. 

He decides on addressing the doctor as she comes over to check his vitals, examining his head and blood pressure. “How exactly did this happen,” he asks, voice coming out in a low mumble. He’s _embarrassed_ , Simon realizes. He winces against the feeling of her fingers on his skull and she murmurs a low apology as she steps back.

“You’re looking quite alright, Mr. Pitch. I’m thinking you can go home right about now.” They both release a heaving sigh at that, Simon smiling gratefully that he’s not more hurt, Baz with a pinched look on his face. 

“I’ll file some papers and Mr. Snow, you can just wait here,” she says, and Simon nods immediately, returning to Baz’s side.

“What am I missing exactly? Fill me in, Simon.”

“Well…” 

He trails off, not sure of how to start, of how much to reveal. “We’re at university, for starters. Business Management,” he says, gesturing at Baz, then at himself. “Undecided.”

Baz’s shock is taken over instantly by his scoff, as he sneers at Simon. “Undecided. Figures that’s the one thing that never changes.”

Simon scowls, knocking his hand gently against Baz’s shoulder with a huff. “Yeah, I forgot you were a prick in highschool.”

“We were _friends_ , Simon.”

"Yeah, against both of our better judgement.

They both snort at that as the nurse walks back in, papers in tow. “Doc says fill these out real quick and you’re free to go. Check back in a few days if his memory hasn’t returned.”

He walks out as quick as he came, and Simon signs a release form, then hands it to Baz to do the same. 

“You’re not getting off without telling me the rest of what I’m missing,” he grumbles, pulling himself up and wincing as he swings his head up. His hair is all matted from being on the bed, or maybe from being outside in the heat, stuck on one side of his head mostly.

Simon holds back a snicker at the sight and extends his arm, ignoring Baz’s questioning gaze. _Right_. They didn’t use to do things like this in highschool, not unless they were sad or drunk and falling all over each other. Now, Baz seems to be catching on to that, but makes no move to ask before taking his arm. 

“Let’s go,” Simon says, and they drop off the forms at the front desk. Judith smiles at them, and Simon’s eyes widen in horror as he recalls what he’d told her earlier.

“Oi!” She calls out as they’re striding out the door. Baz turns to look at her despite Simon’s relentlessly tugging. “He is pretty gorgeous dear! You’re rather lucky,” She chuckles, and Simon feels his entire face go hot as Baz blusters next to him. 

He’s only able to avoid it until they get home. Even then, he spends the car ride dodging Baz’s various questions - _whose car is this? Are we going to your flat or mine? Where do you live? No, where do I live? What was the clerk talking about?_

He’s not giving answers and Baz isn’t accepting it too well, lips pursed angrily as he crosses his arms petulantly in the passenger seat. 

“Oh come off it, I’ll tell you when we get to my flat.” 

“You’d better,” Baz huffs. He uncrosses his arms only after Simon scoffs, but keeps his pout. 

“Keep the attitude, I’m not telling you anything. I _shouldn’t,_ after the stunt you pulled.”

Baz ignores him in favor of tugging at his shirt collar. “It’s like a bloody furnace in here, Simon, turn the air on.”

Simon slaps his hand away when he reaches for the knob, and he laughs incredulously at Baz’s startled expression. “No, _no._ Are you _hot_?”

“I just said that-”

“And I _told_ you this morning. But _no_ , you just had to wear your bloody Versace. It’s scorching out! Where’s your common sense?”

“There is no common sense in fashion. Wait, this is _Versace_? Like actually?”

Simon ignores him as he pulls into the drive, grumbling to himself about fashion and his stupid boyfriend and how good he looks (not that he’d ever admit it.) They make their way inside and Simon immediately goes to turn the temperature down, grabbing a glass of water as Baz wanders into the living room. 

He casts his curious eyes on the space around them, studying everything with narrowed eyes for a clue. Or maybe it’s because the light hurts his eyes. Simon needs to read up more on the informational packets they were given. 

His eyes linger on the photos decorating the wall in the living room area, a few simple ones of Simon and Penny, then another one with them. 

In this one, Simon’s watching the camera, smiling brightly while Baz stares at him. It was taken the night after graduation, when he, Penny, and Baz had all gone out and rented a posh hotel room for the night. Baz paid for the room and Simon snuck alcohol in, and Penny brought her disposable camera. The moment remains at a high spot in Simon’s list of favorite memories, right next to the day he and Baz got together properly.

“Are you going to explain now?”

“You know,” says Simon as he watches Baz recline in his least favorite chair in the flat. His face crumples with discomfort as he sinks into the cushy material, and Simon nearly laughs, “You really do get more tolerable when you’re nice to me.”

“I’m _nice_ to you? What on _earth_ could have made me act so foolishly?”

“Kissing me apparently,” Simon mumbles, and ignores Baz when he demands to know what he muttered under his breath. 

“No more stalling. Sit and answer my questions. Get on with it.”

Simon sits, waiting for Baz to ask something. “Go on, then. What do you want to know?” 

“Are we still friends?” 

Simon stares shocked, trying to hide it behind an unimpressed gaze. He fixes his eyes on the photo of them hanging on the wall. 

“I don’t know!” Baz throws his hands up, “Maybe you just never got over me being out of your life and that’s why you’ve got pictures up!”

“Look at your phone case, you dolt! You weren’t stupid in highschool, and you’re not stupid now, why are you asking obvious questions?” Simon feels his face crumple frustratedly, wondering why he’s dodging solid questions, why he’s suddenly so hesitant in looking for answers.  
  
Baz’s voice is soft when he says, “I’m _worried_ , is all. What if there’s something awful I haven’t figured out yet?”

Simon softens immediately, the way he always does to match Baz when he reveals bits and pieces of himself. “Nothing bad,” he murmurs, standing up to wedge himself next to Baz on the cramped armchair. 

“Ask me something,” he says, and Baz takes a cautious glance at him, eyes wandering down like he’s observing their proximity. He used to do that a lot throughout highschool, though Simon never knew why until Baz admitted to the fact that he’d liked Simon for years. 

_“Almost since the first day we met.”_

Simon smiles at the memory now, and Baz asks his first question. 

It only takes about an hour to get through everything, from their relationship to his college major and what kind of car he drives. He asks about his father and the children, avoiding any specifics about their relationship, though Simon reassures him that things are better than they used to be.

“So…” His face is creased tightly, hope wandering out onto his expression despite the careful way he’s trying to conceal it. “We’re together. We’ve been together.” 

Simon nods and Baz rubs his hands over his eyes, wincing at the pressure as it knocks his head back. “Thank heavens, I was getting tired of nursing my crush.”

Hearing him say it rips a laugh from Simon’s mouth, and he presses a kiss to Baz’s cheek quickly. “C’mon. You have to nap. Doctor’s orders.”

He leads them to Simon’s room, though it’s just as much Baz’s room at this point. He’s got two drawers for his clothes, his own desk wedged into the corner, and all his text books are here. His gaze shifts over everything, the lack of recognition making something swell in Simon’s chest. 

“Go on. Lie down.”

“And you?” 

Simon looks at him, watches the way Baz’s eyes drop down to his mouth. 

He’s hesitant as he remembers Baz’s injury. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he admits, and Baz sighs before stepping into Simon’s space.

“A bit too late for that, love.” Simon gasps at the nickname, only a slight puff of air, but Baz catches it nonetheless. 

“Do I call you that normally?”

Simon shakes his head, unable to hide how much he likes it. His face feels burning hot now, as Baz’s eyes wander down again. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, just as breathless now. 

“You don’t even have to ask,” Simon grins, and leans in. 

  
  


**_Approximately Forty-Three Hours Later:_ **

“Simon Snow you absolute menace, get _in_ here.”

Simon stands up from the couch to find Baz sat up in bed, looking more clear eyed than he has for the past couple of days. He doesn’t even get to sigh in relief before Baz glares daggers through him. 

“ _Where_ is my outfit?”

“Your memory is back?” Simon grins, a yawn splitting it up before he’s finished. 

“Shut up,” Baz hisses, throwing the sheets off of him and stalking towards Simon. After a quick kiss and a murmured, _thank you_ , he disappears into the bathroom. 

He spends all day digging through the apartment, and finds it wedged under the kitchen counter. Simon has to explain to his concerned neighbors why they heard muffled sobbing through the walls.

“Oh dear, is he alright?”

Another sob pierces the air. He must’ve seen all the dust collecting on it by now, or he’s calculating the price of dry cleaning.

“It’s… personal.”

She smiles sympathetically, patting Simon's shoulder as another wail bursts through the wall. 


End file.
